


Muir Island is No Good For You

by citizenjess (givehimonemore)



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Baby Mutants, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2011-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-28 13:44:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givehimonemore/pseuds/citizenjess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles visits Moira and the newly-infantilized Erik on Muir Island.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So there's a comic backstory for "X-Men" where one of Magneto's acolytes turns on him and subsequently turns him into an infant. (No, really.) Charles coerces Moira MacTaggert to sequester him away to Muir Island, where she may or may not do some handy-dandy genetic experimentation on him. Eventually, someone else restores Magneto's powers and memories, re-aging him and allowing the lack of context to run its course in terms of taking revenge against Charles and company. Personally, I find the idea of baby!Magneto floatin' silverware and stuff kind of adorable, so out this came. Title comes from a quote from Gambit to Rogue from the '80s cartoon series: "Muir Island is no good for you. How about we go to Paris instead?"

It's a research facility first and a living quarters only incidentally, only because it has to be, only because Charles insists that it's the best way to safe-keep the now-infant Magneto. Moira does her best to make the boy's cell/room comfortable - Charles makes it clear that no expense will be spared to make sure both of their needs are met to the utmost - but in truth, little helps. The island is isolated, and the memories it stirs of her family and her failure to save her son keep Moira's mind pacing back and forth like a caged animal; because, in a way, she is. She knows Charles doesn't want her to feel imprisoned, but, with all due respect to Charles Xavier, sometimes the world does not bend to his whims no matter how politely he asks it to.

That said, Moira still finds herself bustling about in anticipation of the professor's visit. It's been a handful of months since they met face-to-face (though Charles diligently phones three times a week, always courteous and slightly apologetic, like he knows what a hardship this is for her, but can't quite bring himself to do anything more about it), and in truth, it feels more personal, intimate than what it actually is: Charles making sure her charge is still alive and well. Moira knows that she's mostly been tapped for this task because of her resources and her ability to be remote and trustworthy, because the newly-infantilized Master of Magnetism can hardly be entrusted to just anybody. She knows that, when all is said and done, this arrangement is more about helping Magneto than it is about Charles' friendship with Moira. She knows this, even as she fusses over whether to change out the place mats on the dining room table or fill a vase with wild flowers picked a little ways from the facility. Eventually, she does both, and feels a pair of eyes boring into her back as she fills a glass vase halfway with water.

"Erik," she says, turning on her heel to find the child staring at her. She sets the vase carefully in the center of the table and strides across the room, kneeling in front of the boy. Magneto, nee Erik Lehnsherr, frowns at her and clutches the stuffed bear he's holding closer, twisting a little when Moira tries to grasp a tiny hand to check for any stickiness. The circumstances of Erik's de-aging are still somewhat mysterious to her (frequent use of the laboratory at the facility have yet to crack all of its secrets), but the boy seems to grow at a somewhat faster rate than human children - again, Moira isn't sure if this has more to do with Erik's own mutation or Alpha's power. In addition, as a particularly precocious toddler, he gets into absolutely everything. "He tried to eat the batteries out of a flashlight the other day," Moira recently found herself explaining to Charles, who had chuckled into the receiver and murmured something about digestion ("you would have gotten them back eventually, of course").

"Erik, we've a visitor this afternoon," Moira tells the boy, once she's satisfied that he hasn't succeeded in shoving his hands in her plants again. As she expects, he doesn't respond; she knows from experience with his temper tantrums - during which every pot and pan and fork in the vicinity start to rattle - that he is perfectly capable of communicating. By his nominal silence, then, Moira has to assume that Erik does not want to talk to her. Still, forced isolation makes her a bit desperate sometimes. "Professor Xavier is coming to visit us," she says, speaking slowly, overly emphasizing each vowel. "Can you say 'Professor Xavier,' Erik?" Erik continues simply to stare at her, perhaps even with a bit of disdain, and she sighs and considers it a lost cause.

Charles arrives in the Blackbird with his usual punctuality, a fact which never fails to impress Moira. The professor looks rather the same as she remembers, both pristine and relaxed somehow in the navy suit he wears, sitting regal and dignified in his wheelchair. He greets her warmly, and they fall easily into conversation; about the results so far of Moira's experiments with the boy; about the facility itself (Charles knows nearly as much about the goings-ons of Muir Island as Moira herself); about the Xavier Institute and the leaps and bounds all of Charles' students are making. It's all small talk to them, and there's an ease to the back-and-forth that makes Moira's heart both full and empty simultaneously.

They continue to chat as Moira begins to brew tea, Charles in repose at the dining room table (Moira is pleased when he delicately sniffs the flowers). Before long, in spite of his earlier apathy, Erik toddles into the room on chubby legs, still clutching the teddy bear. He stops several feet from Charles and blinks at him.

Charles blinks back, and then he clears his throat gently. "Hello, Erik," he says. "How are you today?" It strikes Moira rather sentimentally that Charles does not dumb down his voice or his words for the boy; possibly, this could be his lack of experience around small children, but Moira chooses to find it charming.

Erik does not respond, but he steps closer, first two steps, then four, until he's standing just in front of Charles' knees. "Red?" Charles asks with a small smile, gesturing to the tiny sweat suit that Erik wears, and Moira shrugs.

"He likes red." She begins to load up a tray with tea cups. "He hasn't stopped carrying around that bear you gave him."

"I can see that." Charles peers at the boy. Erik's gaze intensifies, his gray eyes narrowing slightly. Before Moira realizes what's happening, Charles has already intervened; brushing his fingers to his temple, he sends out a wordless command that Moira does not hear: 'No, Erik. Let go of my chair, please.'

Erik does.

When the tea arrives, Charles thanks Moira and blows over the top of his cup softly before taking a small sip. When Erik moves closer still, one small hand coming out to touch Charles' knee, Charles carefully sets the cup towards the center of the table, out of reach of the boy. Gingerly, he picks Erik up, settling him sideways on his lap. This seems to please Erik, who continues clutching the bear in both arms, but settles against Charles and stares around the room. "He's grown," Charles says approvingly. "Rather quickly." Moira notices that Erik watches Charles when he speaks, as though he were listening. Absently, Charles pats Erik on the head, his hand affectionately ruffling Erik's soft, light hair, and it's rather paternal.

"Yes," Moira nods, trying not to get distracted by this. "His powers are growing, too. He focuses more. I think he's more aware of what he can do."

"Fascinating," Charles smiles. He reaches towards the tea tray and picks up a small spoon, holding it in front of the boy on his palm. "Erik, can you move this?" he asks. Erik cocks his head. "Look at the spoon, Erik," Charles instructs gently. "It's metal. You can move metal, Erik."

It's several seconds before the spoon begins to move; slowly, at first, just barely quivering, and then, the wide end rises in the air nearly an inch, levitating for three seconds before collapsing once more against Charles' hand. "Ah," Erik says, his eyes wide.

"Very good, Erik," Charles beams. He hands the spoon to the boy, and Erik shifts the stuffed bear underneath one arm so he can grasp his prize in one chubby hand. He stares at it in wonder, and Charles smoothes a downy curl from the boy's forehead. "Very good." He nods at Moira. "As long as he remains here for the duration of his restoration, I believe his powers will grow steadily and safely."

Moira returns the smile thinly, though it does not quite reach her eyes. "He's safe here," she agrees, frowning at the serene expression on the boy's face as he clutches the spoon, his head now pillowed sleepily against his dearest friend. In spite of her misgivings about this entire arrangement, Moira knows that Erik still needs her, and that she will remain here for him, but mostly for Charles, because in the end, it's always about Charles Xavier.

*

It's scant weeks later when Charles gets the phone call. It's not usual for Moira to phone him, and her frantic voice puts him immediately on alert. "... broke in to the lab," Moira blurts out. Charles tries to calm her down enough to assure him that she is, in fact, unharmed, but Moira presses on.

"Charles, it's Erik," she says, after taking a couple of prescribed deep breaths. (Begrudgingly, she has to admit that it helps.) "It was obviously Erik that they wanted. They didn't take anything else."

"He's been abducted?" Charles asks, his heart in his throat.

"Not exactly. Look, Charles." Moira's voice lowers a bit. "They didn't kidnap the boy. They regenerated him into his former self. His powers are fully restored, and probably his memories; or if not yet, then they will be soon."

Charles rubs his head. "Did he go willingly?" he asks, still trying to collect his scattered thoughts: Relief that Moira has not been injured or worse; worry at the idea of a fully restored Magneto, lacking the proper context for his memories -

"Charles, you need to be careful," Moira is saying. "He hasn't returned here, but he might travel there. He might come seeking answers from you -"

The doorknob to his study turns suddenly behind him. The figure whisks inside, whisper-quiet, and even though Charles cannot see him - nor feel his mental presence, which must mean that the helmet is back in place - he knows immediately who it is. "Hang up the phone, Charles," Magneto commands him quietly.

"Charles - Charles, are you all right? Do you want me to call someone? Do something? Charles?" Moira's voice is increasingly anxious and high-pitched.

"Take care of yourself, Moira," Charles tells her simply, and dutifully places the phone on the receiver, silencing her near-shrieks abruptly, before turning slowly to meet his fate.


	2. Magneto Gets De-De-Aged

Erik's mass is considerable, his frame lean and lank, his presence so imposing and familiar that Charles wonders briefly whether the past few months of his infancy really happened at all. His face is set in its tell-tale frown, and Charles nods at him politely, knowing - hoping - that Erik's agenda is not a violent one, merely a quest for information.

"You may sit down, Erik," he asserts calmly, but the other man remains standing, scant feet from Charles' wheelchair.

"It's Magneto." The frown deepens. "You know that."

"Magneto," Charles nods. He regards the other man with interest. "Are your memories all back, then?"

"They are," Magneto says flatly, and his eyes flash. "No thanks to you and your scientist girlfriend."

"I suppose this is the part where I point out that the technology for regenerating you into your true form is not mine," Charles sighs, pointedly ignoring the implication about Moira.

Erik - Magneto - stalks closer then, looming, and Charles forces himself to keep his hands resting lightly on the armrests of his chair. "No, of course not. I suppose you could also point out that you were all too willing to whisk me off to a government facility. You enjoyed being able to control me; to have me weak and at your mercy." His tone and stance are accusatory, his lip curled in disgust. Charles does not break their locked gazes.

"I did what I could to keep you safe; to give you the best chance of restoring your powers without you being exploited or coming in harm's way. If I could have restored you to yourself, I would have," Charles says sincerely.

Magneto's lips twist into a disdainful smirk. "And I suppose the thought of me, docile and obedient in the Xavier Academy never crossed your mind, did it, Charles?" He does not wait for the other man to answer before segueing. "For months, I was confused and alone, a child, isolated, nearly powerless. And do you know what the only thing that felt familiar to me was, Charles?" Charles holds his breath. "You," Magneto confirms, and he's leaning and gripping Charles' armrests himself now. "I had no idea who you were, and yet, I was drawn to your every essence." An errant image of the toddler Erik clutching his teddy bear comes unbidden to Charles' mind and he sighs. Magneto leans yet closer, their noses nearly touching. "What is that about, Charles? Why did you have this kind of power over me? Why?"

"I swear to you," Charles says, and his voice is nearly a whisper, "I did nothing to alter your mind, Erik. I'm sorry. I don't have an easy answer for you. We've just always been ... complicated, you and I."

Magneto's mouth quirks slightly. "We have." He shifts slightly, giving Charles his space, and Charles lets out a ragged breath. "But if I find out that you have changed me in some way, I will return; first for Moira MacTaggert, and then for you."

Charles sighs. "You do not need to harm Moira, Erik. She has only been doing as I ask."

"I know." Magneto stands anew and bares his teeth in a smile. "But you are much more likely to compromise yourself if it's for someone else's benefit." He turns and stalks towards the doorway. "Until then, Charles."

Charles stares at the closed door for several minutes after Erik takes his leave. Then he sighs and runs his hands over his face wearily. While Erik's predilection for Charles' presence is, in fact, completely incidental, the fact remains that Moira did express interest in performing a few tests with Erik's DNA, and he knows the data from those tests is still stored in the facility on Muir Island, alongside information that even Charles' most senior X-Men do not know about. As he slowly turns away from the space previously occupied by his old friend, he can only hope that said information remains under wraps. It's the only way to ensure that Magneto, and the rest of them, stay safe.


End file.
